I have some friends who have lived in the same city since they were small children. In a situation like this, it is easier to determine what home means. For me, it is less about a place since I haven’t lived in the town where I grew up in many many maaaany years (though I’ll be a Pittsburgh Steelers fan for life). Home is more about a feeling.

Family plays a part of course. Home is often where mom is. I haven’t officially lived at home since I left for college but whether mom is in Maryland, Texas or soon to be Georgia, there’s always a feeling of home where she is settled.

Home is also where I am surrounded by a good group of friends. A place where I can be myself and I feel at ease. A place where I only have to say two or three words and those around me will instantly remember a good story or start cracking up about an inside joke. That’s home…and for now that’s Los Angeles. And I’m in no hurry to move. But I am always ready to leave for my next adventure just so long as when I come home it is to Los Angeles.

Lastly, after I’ve been on the road for a while, home is a place where I have a set of drawers. A place to unpack and feel settled. Living out of a bag symbolizes temporary and drawers means home to me.